This go 'round, we get Antonio Sabato Jr. as the titular Lucas, perhaps one
of our more prolific serial killers. Lucas is said to have between 350 and 600
murders to his credit, including his own mother.

As a child, Henry lives with his destitute, legless father and shrewish,
trashy mom. He spends his days torturing small animals and watching his mother
have sex with strange men for money. One day, while playing with his brother,
young Henry accidentally gouges his own eye with a stick; fortunately, one of
mom's tricks is a doctor, so he's fitted with a nifty glass orb. This gives
Sabato the opportunity to play his role with a wonky left eye, which complements
his bizarre, could-be-from-anywhere monotone mumble, said mumble making the lack
of English subtitles a decided liability.

Feifer's films rarely rise above the level of TV-movies. They lack insight
into the characters—"bad childhood" is a catchall for aberrant
behavior—and the police procedural side of things is handled in
simplistic, rudimentary terms. This one is no exception, though it does contain
one fairly chilling murder scene and a refreshingly over-the-top turn by Feifer
regular Caia Coley (Bundy: A Legacy of Evil) as Henry's harridan mom.

Except for the aforementioned chilling murder, there's little suspense to be
had here. Most of the film concerns itself with Henry's miserable childhood and
adolescence, twangy guitar music and bits of rockabilly punctuating the scenes
so we remember that this is taking place in the southwest. The film is framed
with Sabato being interviewed by the Texas Rangers, who lap up everything he
says; the more killings he confesses to, the bigger a catch he is, so they treat
him almost like a celebrity to get him to give more details.

This is actually pretty close to what happened with the real Lucas case, but
Feifer doesn't capitalize on it the way he should have. Late in the game, a
district attorney shows up to point out to the rangers that much of what Lucas
is telling them is disprovable BS, but the cops don't want to hear it. The
business of the rangers manipulating—and being manipulated by—Lucas
is far more interesting than tidbits about Lucas' childhood, but that's what
we're left with. Feifer skates lightly over the whole business of political
power games, and considering that the guy was a mass murderer and necrophiliac,
dials down the luridness to just below "tepid."

Incidentally, in real life Lucas recanted most of his confessions and
authorities questioned the methods used to obtain them. Then-Governor George W.
Bush commuted Lucas' death sentence to life in prison, the only such commutation
in Bush's tenure (or in Texas since the death penalty was reinstated in 1982).
Lucas died in prison of natural causes in 2001.

The image here is clear but bland, and for your listening pleasure, you have
your choice of Dolby Surround or Stereo tracks. Feifer and Sabato do a standard
commentary track, and there's an uninteresting stills gallery.